


A Dynamic Most Profound

by FBIEpidemic



Category: Elementary (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 04:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16381691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FBIEpidemic/pseuds/FBIEpidemic
Summary: “Joan is dad a… retard?”While she had been stuck observing his calming action, he had curled in on himself and sat up, his knees drawn to his chin. This sad, protective question that glints in his grey eyes just break her heart but she knows that she needs to cover a lot of ground in answering his question.“Well,” she seats up too. “Do you know what that word means, buddy?”





	A Dynamic Most Profound

Shuffling feet wake her and her sleep-laden eyes search the darkroom for the invader. She finds him peeking around the mountain of her comforter.

“Joan,” her name falls out his mouth as he dives head first in her direction. The end of her name is muffled by his little arms and legs wiggling about the blankets. 

Little Timothy was thrown into their lives by complete accident and most inconveniently. It’s cold on New York nights and on the coldest of the year Sherlock lost control. He was going to leave the apartment and go find a dealer but he never got out the door. There was a baby on the doorstep, blocking his way.

Therefore, Timothy. 

“Joan, can I ask you something?” The little boy moves along the bed, he’s in his father’s shirt and looks like a pair of Sherlock’s more ridiculous socks. Timothy most likely dressed himself. She doesn’t doubt it for a moment. Sherlock is a good father, odd but good, and Timothy is like any other six year old… or rather like any Holmes’ boy at six.

She smiles at him, stroking a few strands of soft brown hair from his eyes. Sherlock never asked her point blank but she knew he needed her back at Brownstone the moment he found Timothy. That first night had been the worst but from there it wasn’t actually that bad. 

“Of course you can sweetie.” 

After she got over the shock of the sleeping infant in Sherlock’s arms, she was able to be of use. Timothy took to Sherlock the moment Sherlock pulled him out of his carrier. She just needed to be there to teach Sherlock the basics, the things that people like him just don’t bother to think of. 

Timothy shifts, uncomfortably. He’s fine in the bed, hugging her side with his head on her breast. He’s just uncomfortable in general. “Is… Is my dad…” He takes a deep breath, which takes Joan by surprise.

Sherlock and Joan are always teaching Timothy, he’s more advanced than any of his peers and not just because Joan was reading him her old Medical textbooks before he went to Kindergarten but because he seemed to soak up knowledge like Sherlock. To deny Timothy these things did more harm than good. 

Still, it is odd to watch him do or say things that other six-year-olds don’t.

“Joan is dad a… retard?”

While she had been stuck observing his calming action, he had curled in on himself and sat up, his knees drawn to his chin. This sad, protective question that glints in his grey eyes just break her heart but she knows that she needs to cover a lot of ground in answering his question.

“Well,” she seats up too. “Do you know what that word means, buddy?”

He nods,” it means to delay or hold back in terms of progress, development, or accomplishment.” He scrunches his face up,” and it’s spelled r-e-t-a-r-d.”

She smiles, ruffling his hair,” yes. Good.” Then she leans forward and puts a hand on his leg,” do you think your dad is held back? Delayed?”

Timothy takes a moment to answer her question. His little face pinches together as he thinks her question over. But in the end, he shakes his head. “No. He gets up way before me, so he has no delay in the development in the morning. He’s super smart and super fast so no.” He nods his head and an actual smile eats up his face,” no! He’s not! I knew it.”

Joan nods her agreeance,” Timmy? Where did you hear that?” 

The pride in his eyes fall and his eyes no longer meet hers. 

“Honey,” she moves her hand to his shoulder. “I won’t be mad.”

Timothy holds his gaze downwards but mumbles,” Billy at school. He said that-that his dad said… Billy said it because I said did that thing you and Dad do, the observations. He said that I am a freak and Dad is a- is a…”

Joan nods, making it clear that he need not continue on, she understands. “Okay, well, here’s what we’re going to do.”

Sherlock, a good mostly dependable father has never once had a problem when took on the role as ‘co-parent’. In raising Timothy they duplicated their partnership, therefore she can say this without a doubt that Sherlock will simply just agree. 

“Do you understand?” 

Timothy nods. 

“Good, now let's go downstairs, huh? See what you’re father’s up to.” She takes Timothy by the hand, leading him from her bed. Together they climb slowly down the stairs that is until Timothy’s face splits with a happy grin and he tears off for the kitchen.

“Daddy!” That rarely comes from Timothy’s mouth. He is an intelligent boy but he usually uses other languages to call Sherlock anything but ‘dad’. However, there are exceptions to everything, especially for the Holmes boys.

Timothy rushes into the kitchen and comes to an almost complete stop before throwing his arms around his father’s legs,” can I have strawberries and cream too?”

Sherlock doesn’t look down at his son but continues to stir the dish. “Did I not put you to bed an hour ago? I read from the Atlas, we discussed your findings, no matter how inadequate, and then I turned the night light on. That means you should be in bed.”

Timothy looks at Joan from around Sherlock’s legs. 

“I woke him up on my way down here,” the moment the words leave her mouth she knows Sherlock doesn’t believe her but he nods anyway. 

Timothy fixes a toothy grin on Sherlock,” can I, Dad? Please?”

Sherlock sighs but agrees,” very well. Get the bowls.”

Sherlock fills all three bowls equally and hands one to his son and the other to Joan. 

“Both hands,” Watson ushers Timothy on, smiling when he giggles as he licks the top of his bowl. When Sherlock follows, seating down beside Timothy, he does the most un-Sherlock thing and uses his finger to scoop some of Timothy’s out.

“Dad!”

They eat their Strawberries and cream. By the time the room has silenced, spoons leaning against the side of dishes and hands settled back to laps, little Timothy is has settled onto Sherlock’s lap and almost under his t-shirt. Curled around the soft skin of his father’s abdomen. 

Sherlock rests a hand on top his head.

“You needn’t lie for him, Watson.” Sherlock looks down at the boy in his lap, there isn’t even any disgust in his face as he looks over Timothy’s dirty mouth. He simply wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. Timothy’s face now clean, Sherlock fixes his gaze on her.

She meets his gaze and smiles.

“I observe and then I deduce. Eavesdropping is one of my many skills, I knew he was up the moment his feet hit the floor. I was right behind him when he crept to your room. Whilst you helped him with his bully, I came down here.” His face never gives away any emotions he may have, his features stoned.

Watson watches the lines of his forehead, the ones under his eyes, and sighs. 

“I believe I’ll take him to bed now.” He rises, managing keeps his son balanced perfectly in his arms. “Good night, Watson.”

She listens to his footsteps and smiles when she hears Sherlock walk right past Timothy’s room. “Good night, Sherlock.”


End file.
